When love beckons to you, follow him,
though his ways are hard and steep,
And when his wings enfold you, yield to him,
though the sword hidding among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you, beleive in him,
though his voice may shatter your dreams
   as the north win lays waste in the garden.
For even as love crowns you, so shall he crucify you.
Even though he is for your growth, so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches,
   that quiver in the sun,
So she he descent to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
And let your best be for your friend,
If he must know the ebb of your tide,
let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter,
  and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of the little things the heart finds
  its morning and is refreshed.